[4 articles]
Hardcore fans turn out for Erickson
http://www.boston.com/ae/music/articles/2010/11/15/hardcore_fans_turn_out_for_erickson/
By Joseph P. Kahn
November 15, 2010
Pioneers of acid rock, the Texas-based 13th Floor Elevators seldom
traveled east of Austin before crashing in the late 1960s due to
heavy drug use and legal woes. But the band's recordings and its
dynamic lead singer, Roky Erickson, built a hardcore fan base in some
unlikely places, including the Harvard College campus, before the
Elevators derailed forever. Erickson became the most visible victim
of the band's demise, serving three years in a state hospital for the
criminally insane. Saturday night's show at Royale marked his
first-ever Boston appearance, a long, strange trip indeed for a cult
figure worshiped by artists like R.E.M., ZZ Top, and Julian Cope.
Erickson has actually made several comebacks since, beginning with
his punk-inflected, horror-rock recordings of the 1980s. Yet there
have been numerous setbacks, too, as chronicled in the documentary
film "You're Gonna Miss Me.'' The release this year of "True Love
Cast Out All Evil,'' a spare, haunting disc recorded with Okkervil
River, captured a different side of the singer-songwriter, more
quietly contemplative if no less beset by inner demons.
The Erickson who took the stage Saturday might be described as Old
Testament Roky. Long-haired and bearded, noticeably stockier than
just a few years ago, he rasped and growled his way through a set
list heavily culled from his "Bleib Alien'' days: songs like "Bloody
Hammer,'' "Two-Headed Dog,'' and "Don't Shake Me Lucifer'' ("Well,
they're rocking in Hades/ They're rocking on the elevator up'').
Backed by the youthful power trio of guitarist Kyle Ellison, bass
player John Michael Dayspring, and drummer Kyle Schneider, Erickson
was a commanding presence, to be sure, if not an especially
communicative one. He never spoke onstage and often turned his back
to the crowd when he wasn't singing. Given all that Erickson's been
through, perhaps that's understandable. Legends do not owe their
audiences much beyond showing up, after all.
The band closed with "You're Gonna Miss Me,'' written and recorded by
Erickson while in high school. It later became the Elevators' one and
only commercial hit, at once a demonstration of Erickson's
astonishing vocal prowess and unlike virtually every other song in
his old band's LSD-laced repertoire. "Boston loves you, Roky!''
someone in the crowd called out. Well, sure. Forty-odd years is a
long time to wait to consummate a long-distance romance.
Opening was the Lyres, whose lead singer, Jeff Conolly, is an
unabashed Elevators fan. The band tore furiously through a
high-energy set that was every bit as slick as the sweat dripping
down Conolly's face. At times, he even sounded like a younger, more
vocally supple Roky Erickson. Wonder where he got that from?
--
Joseph P. Kahn can be reached at [email protected]
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Roky Erickson at sold-out Johnny Brenda's
http://www.philly.com/philly/entertainment/20101110_Roky_Erickson_at_sold-out_Johnny_Brenda_s.html
By Sam Adams
Nov. 10, 2010
These days, the undead look as if they spent more time at the gym
than in the depths of hell, but when Roky Erickson sings about
demons, it sounds as if he's been there and back. It's not far from
the truth. Erickson, with his band the 13th Floor Elevators, was a
pioneer of psychedelic garage rock in the 1960s, mixing the primal
stomp of the blues with the unplaceable sound of an instrument called
an electric jug and a fierce shriek of a voice sharp enough to
penetrate the reverb in which it was often swaddled.
Psychedelic drugs, however, aggravated what was diagnosed as paranoid
schizophrenia, for which he received electroshock therapy that added
further trauma but brought him no closer to a cure. Only in the last
several years has Erickson, with the help of his brother and his
medication, been able to get back on track, playing music for
audiences who have been waiting decades to see him.
At Erickson's sold-out show at Johnny Brenda's, his voice had lost
none of its power to shock and disturb. "Creature With the Atom
Brain" and "Bloody Hammer" were transformed from B-movie camp to
genuinely frightening accounts of brushes with evil. Erickson didn't
even need words to get his point across. The only lyric in "I Walked
With a Zombie" is the title itself, but Erickson's howl filled in the
details without his needing to speak them.
Erickson and his trio mostly stuck to his back catalog, playing only
a handful of songs from his last album, True Love Cast Out All Evil,
but that was just as well. The comparison between his motley onstage
crew and the finely calculated playing of Okkervil River, who served
as his band on the recording, only made the limitations of his
current ensemble stand out more. At worst, they felt sluggish and
flat-footed, but the further back in time Erickson went, the more
secure was their grasp on the material. By the time they got to
"Two-Headed Dog," they were finally keeping pace, although, given the
places he's been, they might have done best to stay a step or two behind.
--------
Roky Erickson takes long road back to 'True Love'
http://www.bostonherald.com/entertainment/music/general/view.bg?articleid=1295673
By Jed Gottlieb
Friday, November 12, 2010
Roky Erickson gets saddled with the "tortured genius" label a lot.
Best known for fronting Texas '60s psychedelic rock pioneers the 13th
Floor Elevators, Erickson had his career derailed by drug use and
mental illness. After a '69 arrest for the possession of a joint, he
was diagnosed with schizophrenia and committed for three years in a
state hospital. In the decades that followed, Erickson's eccentric
output dwindled until he disappeared from the music scene in the '90s.
But that's the past.
His present is quite different.
Today, the "tortured genius" label seems both melodramatic and
inaccurate. Chatting by phone from his home in Texas, Erickson, 63,
says he's happy to be writing, recording and touring once more. "True
Love Cast Out All Evil," a collaboration with Austin indie band
Okkervil River and Erickson's first album in 14 years, came out in
April; Saturday he plays Royale.
"I've been playing music and enjoying it," he said in his
gruff-but-friendly Texas drawl. "Sometimes you have to just do what
you do and enjoy it and let a higher power worry about the rest.
Sometimes you just have to appreciate things as they happen. At times
it's been difficult work, but I enjoy what I do."
The lost-then-found legend's comeback has certainly been difficult.
But since 2001, when Erickson's younger brother won guardianship of
the singer, his life has been back on track.
Erickson's health has improved dramatically since he began receiving
quality treatment a decade ago. He has reunited with his first wife
and son. And he found a kindred artistic spirit in Okkervil River
frontman Will Sheff, who produced "True Love Cast Out All Evil."
Not that Erickson knows Sheff's music.
"(The band) never did play me one of their songs," he said, trying to
recall their first meeting. "They just told me their name and we got
started. But they did a pretty good job of backing me up. They look
like a young country band, but they did all right."
The comeback record bares no resemblance to the howls and fuzz guitar
of the Elevators' signature song, "You're Gonna Miss Me." Much of it
is darkly mellow folk rock. There's a couple of thumping rock tunes
and lots of short feedback transitions between songs. But the heart
of the record is the tender stuff, songs Sheff culled from 40 years
of unrecorded Erickson compositions.
But mellow folk doesn't mean Erickson's given up on cranking the
volume at his live shows.
"Oh, I still like to play loud," he said, "I still do."
Reviews of Erickson's recent gigs have fixated on the singer's
distant demeanor. He rarely engages in stage banter and often looks
behind him as if looking for reassurance from his backing trio. But
he says he digs playing live. He likes the audiences, says they calm
him down and are friendly and polite. He's just not the effusive sort.
"I've been telling audiences that I can sing anything I want to and
they're going to like it," he said with a chuckle. "Now the band, the
band's real strict, they tell me they want to do the songs the way
people like to hear them.
"My band's been having me do 'Reverberation' and, hmm, let me see, I
can't remember the other Elevators song we've been doing," said
Erickson, momentarily forgetting "You're Gonna Miss Me." "I'll tell
you, they've been wanting me to do all of them, but I told them, I
haven't memorized all of them."
Erickson laughs. It's a laugh that doesn't evoke tortured genius in
the slightest. Instead it's the sound of a contented musician just
happy to be working again.
--
Roky Erickson, with the Lyres and the Happen-Ins, at Royale,
Saturday. Tickets: $23; 617-338-7699.
--
[email protected]
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In concert: Roky Erickson at Black Cat
http://blog.washingtonpost.com/clicktrack/2010/11/in_concert_roky_erickson_at_bl.html
By David Malitz
November 8, 2010
If you went to the Black Cat on Friday knowing nothing of Roky
Erickson's troubled past of mental illness, you probably could have
figured it out easily enough. The grizzled 63-year-old minor rock
icon looked alternately puzzled, pleased and possessed as he stood
stage center before a supportive crowd. He didn't address the
audience, save for one incoherent mumble, only occasionally played
the guitar that had to be draped over his neck for him and regularly
looked to his backing band for reassurance in the middle of songs.
And if you went to the show not knowing that, as a teenage Texan,
Erickson basically invented psychedelic rock with his band, the 13th
Floor Elevators, Friday's show didn't provide many hints. The set was
largely culled from Erickson's '80s material, a more bruising and
generic brand of hard rock, filled with science fiction themes.
"Stand for the Fire Demon," "Night of the Vampire" and "Don't Shake
Me Lucifer" were straight-ahead boogie rock ragers that showcased
Erickson's mighty howl, as gruff and gritty as ever.
Also mostly absent from the set was material from "True Love Cast Out
All Evil," Erickson's first album of new material in 15 years. Texas
folk-rock dramatists Okkervil River were an odd but ultimately
successful backing band on the album, providing well-manicured
arrangements that made for a dignified and unlikely return to the
spotlight. On this tour, even backed by a standard three-piece
guitar/bass/drums setup, the couple of new songs -- "Goodbye Sweet
Dreams" and "John Lawman" -- stood out. The former provided the most
moving moment of the night, with Erickson repeating the title almost
as if a mantra. Compared to the surreal imagery contained in most
songs, it was particularly humanizing.
After a wobbly but crowd-pleasing encore of "You're Gonna Miss Me,"
the Elevators' biggest hit and sort of the garage rock equivalent of
"Freebird," Erickson huddled with his guitarist as he did regularly
through the night. The meeting ended with Erickson walking offstage,
not saying goodbye. It was a strange and anticlimactic end to a
strange and anticlimactic show, but the strangest part was that it
happened in the first place.
.
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